Rest

I need a strong bond,
like gluten,
to pick me up from the
hot spicy sour
soup that I've cooked during the summer.

My body says help.
My insides scream and yell.
They politely decline all asks
and invites I've committed
to.

The body, once gleeful, realizes
that energy gets transformed
to piercing medicine for its joints,
hardening like a web,
restricting all movement.

The lake now, so distant and serene,
makes great contrast
with the boiling furnace
of my temples and thighs.

I've ignored you for way too long.
I've tried dancing
I've tried climbing, knowing
nothing replaces
the cooling breeze
by Morpheus's shores and reefs.

I've made space for me and you
to heal.
The rest
is up to you.


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